


Holding out for a hero

by irishlullaby13



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fairy Tale Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 07:11:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11527170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/pseuds/irishlullaby13
Summary: Abbie's been kidnapped and trapped in a tower by a witch that uses fairy tales for inspiration.  Can and will Cra--anyone save her?





	Holding out for a hero

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of hearing Bonnie Tyler's "Holding out for a hero" too many times on Pandora while suffering from several days of zero sleep.
> 
> Enjoy :)

Three weeks. 

Three weeks she had been stuck in this damn tower. 

Three weeks she had endured having the idiot that kidnapped her boast about how no one would ever be able to find her.

Leave it to Apocalypse to spit forth a villain that used fairy tales as their _thing_. Instead of pulling a Sleeping Beauty, the witch that had kidnapped her had done a spell that _prevented_ Abbie from sleeping.

Abbie laughed bitterly as she lay awake staring at the ceiling. “Instead of Sleeping Beauty, I'm the Ugly Insomniac,” she muttered to herself.

She could practically hear Crane admonishing her for saying something so rude about herself, despite the fact she knew she looked horrible at the moment.

It wouldn't be so bad if she wasn't suffering all the effects of fatigue. Achey shoulders. Muscle tension. Heavy eyelids. Dark circles under her eyes. Hair a mess. Crankiness. And just how the Hell did she look so sickly pale?

Hell, when the witch had last brought her food, Abbie had been so cranky, she chucked the tray at her head.

Abbie tossed and turned, wondering how much longer it would take Crane--or anyone for that matter--to find the tower. She laughed hysterically when she imagined Crane riding up to brambles that surrounded the tower on a horse to rescue her.

She wondered how the spell would be broken. Would it take giving her a triple, Grande, salted caramel latte? Or would it be broken like most fairy tale spells? Would she fall asleep if Cra--someone kissed her?

Abbie groaned in irritation and climbed out of the bed to pace restlessly. She walked to the window and stared out over the dark forest. She slammed her fists on the stone and shouted out into the night, “Where the fuck are you, Crane?”

Because there was no doubt in her mind that he would be the one to rescue her.

  
#  


Ichabod ducked to avoid the horseman’s axe and rolled away to safety, map still tucked under his arm. Now he just had to find supernatural creature to ride through the veil and rescue Abbie.

His eyes fell to the white horse with fiery eyes and wondered how angry the horseman was about to be. 

The horseman lumbered toward him and once again, Ichabod evaded a blow. He then scrambled toward the waiting mount. Ichabod swung himself into the unforgiving saddle and took the reins.

“Forgive my retreat,” he said. “But I needed the map and a supernatural creature. I have both. One of which I shall return once I have rescued the Lieutenant.”

And with that, Ichabod urged the horse into action, leaving a confounded horseman behind.

  
#  


Delirium had set in. Again. Delirium was always fabulous. It was that special time she hallucinated or thought everything was potentially a hallucination.

Abbie didn't know if it was the witch's doing or if it came from her own sleep-deprived mind. Late in the night, Abbie could hear Ichabod’s voice softly whispering, _Lieutenant_.

She would follow his voice to a darkened portion of the tower, reaching for him. Just as she thought she could see him reaching out of the shadows, his voice faded away and she ran into the wall.

Abbie jumped as thunder crashed outside followed by the room becoming illuminated by lightning. She walked slowly to the window. 

Just beyond the forest, on a mountain ridge, Abbie watched the skies open up. The clouds that gathered were dark and glowed red and orange as thunder pulsated. Then, like a portal, the clouds parted and she could see stars twinkling against a pitch black sky.

After a moment the angry clouds dispersed and she could see a solitary figure on the mountain side. Abbie's heart leapt into her throat. 

Though it was too distant to make sure, there was no doubt in her mind that Ichabod had actually made it and he was coming to rescue her.

“It's about god damn time,” she grumbled and stalked away from the window.

Now all she had to do was wait.

  
#  


Of course it wouldn't be as simple as arriving, swooping in, and escaping with the Lieutenant. Not that Ichabod thought it _would be_ easy.

But dispatching carnivorous plants, solving riddles, battling bridge trolls, and trying to outrun a lost girl that turned out to be werewolf had never crossed his mind as a possibility.

And once he made it through the dark forest, he reached his final obstruction… a field of thorns. And not just any thorns. Huge thorns that towered over his head. He looked at Death's horse. 

“You wouldn't happen to have any supernatural abilities which could make short work of this, would you?” Ichabod asked.

When the horse merely muttered and jingled its reins, Ichabod realized his only other options were to weave his way through or cut his way through.

He grabbed a rope and hook he had acquired from his journey through the dark forest. Lastly he removed a smooth, black mirror and addressed the ghostly face in it. “Show me Abigail.”

The face yawned with boredom but then the glass showed him the inside of the tower she was trapped in. She looked exhausted but just as beautiful as he remembered.

Her head jerked toward the window and she ran toward it. Her dark eyes searched the brambles below before squeezing shut. “What the Hell is taking you so long, Ichabod Crane?” she growled, then sighed with frustration as she stormed back to sit on the bed.

With a small smile he tucked the mirror into his knapsack then set out to make his way through this one last barrier.

  
#  


For the last eight days Abbie had felt like she was being watched. Ever since the figure had appeared on the mountain. Somehow, knowing Ichabod was on his way but hadn't made it was even more annoying than the three weeks it took him to get to this place.

But also, since his arrival, she couldn't shake the feeling someone was watching her. And that the someone was Ichabod. Any time the feeling washed over her, she ran to the window to see if he was there.

But tonight it felt different. And when she went to the window she could feel it down to the blood in her veins. She looked down to see him at the base of the tower, gazing into a black mirror. 

He looked up.

She could see that he was battered, abused, and had splotches of blood on his clothes and skin. He shoved the mirror into a bag at his feet and pulled out a hook and rope.

Abbie moved back several paces when She saw him preparing to throw the hook toward the window. A few moments later the hook sailed in through the window.

Her heart beat frantically as the hook caught on the ledge of the window. Of course that could have simply been lack of sleep rearing its ugly head. But Abbie liked to think it was because any moment now Ichabod would be rescuing her.

  
#  


Ichabod paused to breathe as he climbed. His muscles ached and burned from exertion. He hated to admit it but… had he not been in the modern era for these past few years, this may have proven easy. He had scrambled up a mast or two in his days in the past.

The Lieutenant’s incredulous expression crossed his mind and he mentally retorted, _that is not a euphemism for anything so kindly remove your mind from the gutters, Lieutenant._.

He had strived to be educationally prepared for anything, but Abigail was right that they needed also to be physically prepared. Perhaps it would be prudent to start joining the Lieutenant when she went rock climbing or trained for whatever the forces of evil wished to throw their way.

Ichabod looked up and saw her beautiful face staring down at him. She looked at the point of tears. 

Suddenly he was filled with a burst of energy. In no time at all he was crawling over the window’s edge and crashing to the floor of the tower.

When he stood, panting, Abbie stared at him then scowled. “It woulda made a lot more sense if I had climbed down instead of you climbing up,” she groused.

She put her fists on her hips and he couldn't help but smile. Without responding, Ichabod stalled over to her. Her eyes widened as he pulled her into his arms. “I thought I would never see your beautiful face again,” he whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

Then he kissed her soundly.

Because when one's foe was an evil witch that used fairy tales, a spell was probably somehow involved. And if a spell was involved, a kiss never failed to fix the damage.

  
#  


The moment he had taken her in his arms, Abbie had felt a burst of energy. When his mouth met hers, she was practically trembling with wakefulness.

Before she could stop herself, she was tugging Ichabod’s shirt from his breeches and pushing the material upward until he got the point and yanked it off. He hissed softly when her fingers brushed one of his wounds. But Abbie was beyond caring about superficial things like pain and exhaustion. She just knew she wanted to get lost in Ichabod’s arms and his kisses.

“I need you,” she whispered, entwining her fingers behind his neck.

Her weightless gown fell in a puddle at her feet when he tugged at the ribbon keeping it cinched closed. She gasped when Ichabod scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

For the first time in weeks she looked forward to laying on the soft mattress and didn't dread the prospect of sleeplessness. 

Cool, stormy air circled around the room as she welcomed Ichabod between her thighs. She arched and gasped as they moved together.

He penetrated her mind, her body, and her soul. It was far beyond pure, physical, carnal urges. It was something they felt and needed on a plane of existence that had been far out of reach until the moment they were both gasping for breath and riding the waves of release.

This was certainly not something Abbie was familiar with being in fairy tales. It was better… it was real and tangible.

Ichabod rested his forehead against hers. “Are you alright?” he asked softly.

“Never better,” Abbie murmured. “Never bet...ter…”

And for the first time in a little over a month… Abbie fell to sleep.

  
#  


At first he thought she had fallen victim to another curse. But when he lightly pressed his lips to hers, her eyes fluttered open. She hummed, then snuggled closer to him, and fell back to sleep.

She barely even budged when he wrapped her in the thin sheet and carried her down the stairway that had appeared sometime after daybreak, when the storm had finished it's fury.

He had gotten her home, in one of her scandalous sleepwear sets, and sat near her bed, waiting for her to wake. 

He was dozing in his chair when her sleepy voice reached his ears. “Ichabod…?” He startled awake and looked at her dark eyes as she gave him a sleepy smile. “What are you doing over there? Come to bed.”

Ichabod clamored into the bed with her. 

And, once Abbie recuperated from the effects of the spell of sleeplessness, they lived happily ever after.


End file.
